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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25395586">Inked</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka'>yeaka</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Vignette</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:00:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>916</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25395586</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When it comes to marring the prince of Lucis, Ignis has no chill.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>86</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Inked</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ignis has never driven so fast in his life. He <i>marginally</i> obeys the laws of traffic, only because if he dies in a terrible accident, he won’t be able to save his precious prince from another bad decision. Noctis has done a number of ridiculous, foolish, and plain unsightly things in his short life, but this is, thus far, the worst. It never ceases to amaze Ignis how little Noctis <i>thinks</i> about his status—how ready he is to throw propriety to the wind and give the press a field day. Not to mention how ready he is to irreparably screw up his future. If he wakes up in his senior years with a badly-drawn Kenny Crow meme stenciled on throat, he’s probably going to look up at Ignis (who will obviously still be at his side) and ask why on Eos Ignis let him do that. </p><p>Ignis isn’t going to, of course. He barrels through a yellow light and swerves so hard the wheels smoke. Gladiolus’ unconcerned chuckle is still ringing in his ears. He’ll deal with Gladiolus later. At least the royal shield knew where his prince was, but the fact that he didn’t protect Noctis from this absurdity is unforgivable. If Ignis were king, he’d banish Gladiolus to the dungeons for at least a week as punishment. </p><p>Prompto may spend a month in the dungeons, but as much as Ignis usually sympathizes with and looks out for the wayward boy, this time, he deserves it. </p><p>If only they could lock <i>Noctis</i> in the dungeons. Maybe then he’d smarten up for once and stop giving Ignis premature heart attacks. </p><p>Ignis’ chest only clenches tighter as Prompto’s apartment building peeks into view, rising beyond the low roof of a closed convenience store. Ignis’ wheel actually cuts over the curb as he turns towards it. He races into the parking lot and slams on the breaks. It’s a good thing Prompto’s on the ground floor, because at the moment, Ignis doesn’t have the patience for an elevator ride. He practically topples out of the car and is on a worn out welcome mat just a few seconds later. He forgoes tapping the door bell and instead slams his fist just below the peephole, bellowing, “Prompto Argentum, open the door this instant!”</p><p>He can hear shuffling on the other side. There’s probably no need to knock again. But he does so anyway, because all he can think about is Gladiolus shrugging and answering, <i>“Sure, I know where he is. Went over to Prompto’s to get a tattoo. That kid’s pretty talented, actually... too bad Noct has such shit taste in designs...”</i></p><p>He should’ve known. Of course Prompto seems like a sweet kid. He’s kind, and charming, and he genuinely loves his prince, but he’s also a bit of a punk with an obsessive creative streak. Having Noctis hang out with a photographer was already dangerous, but a commoner photographer with Prompto’s artistic eye—</p><p>The door opens, Prompto’s blue eyes big and wide. Ignis hisses, “How <i>dare</i> you,” and pushes right past him. There’s no time to be taken in by that cute face. Ignis storms through Prompto’s place, head swiveling around in search of ink or needles or tattoo guns. He can’t imagine Prompto has a professional setup, and if he finds Noctis bleeding—</p><p>Noctis is sitting at the dining table, his sleeve rolled up his arm, a horrifyingly giant Kenny Crow meme doodled across his pale skin and an open sharpie on the table.  </p><p>Ignis’ heart nearly stops. He marches over and snatches Noctis’ arm, despite Noctis’ squawk of surprise and protest. He twists the offending appendage, examining the thick, even lines, glistening wetly, covering perfectly unblemished flesh. Ignis even bends down to smell the noxious fumes—sure enough, it’s sharpie. </p><p>He suddenly realizes why Gladiolus was laughing when he stormed off. He lets out an embarrassed, “Oh.”</p><p>Prompto flitters to his side and nervously mumbles, “Sorry, I know I shouldn’t have drawn on him—it’ll wash right off, I swear!—I guess we thought it’d be funny, but—”</p><p>“It’ll be hilarious,” Noctis grunts, yanking his arm free. He tilts it to give Ignis a better view, grinning wide while he brags, “Looks pretty good, right? I bet from far enough away, some dumb reporter’s totally gonna think it’s real.”</p><p>“I wanted to draw a chocobo,” Prompto weakly offers. “It woulda been more tasteful, but...”</p><p>“Pfft,” Noctis snorts, “I told you I wanted funny. Save the tasteful for when I get my first <i>real</i> tattoo. Actually, maybe not so tasteful—I was thinking of getting a whole sleeve on my other arm of the Justice Monsters Five cast, with the naga bending down so you can see her—”</p><p>Just like that, Ignis’ blood is boiling again. Noctis hasn’t learned a thing. Ignis snatches up his bicep and lifts him right out of his chair, clamping down before he tries to wrench free. On the way to the door, Ignis tells Prompto, “My apologies; I shouldn’t have doubted you. I should’ve known Noctis was the problem.”</p><p>Prompto shrugs meekly. Clearly, he can see this isn’t a time to fight. Ignis is still very much in guard-dog mode. As he drags his prince through the door, Noctis whines, “Prom, save me!”</p><p>Prom calls back, “Sorry, dude!”</p><p>Ignis doesn’t stop until Noctis is glaring beside him in the car, and the entire ride home is spent on a rant about respecting the crown’s image and the follies of youth.</p>
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